


Even Now (Buffy & Spike, PG-13)

by sevendeadlyfun



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (Comics)
Genre: Community: cya_ficathon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-20
Updated: 2013-07-20
Packaged: 2017-12-20 19:33:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/891028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sevendeadlyfun/pseuds/sevendeadlyfun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For round 7 of cya_ficathon. Buffy S9 comics-canon. <i>“Tell me a story,” she says softly. “Tell me about L.A.”</i>. Buffy asks. Spike answers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Even Now (Buffy & Spike, PG-13)

**Characters:** Buffy, Spike

 **Rating:** PG-13

 **Summary:** For round 7 of cya_ficathon. Buffy S9 comics-canon. _“Tell me a story,” she says softly. “Tell me about L.A.”_. Buffy asks. Spike answers.

 **Prompt:** After Angel's last stand in the alley (NFA), things go very badly. It doesn't have to be the way things unfolded in "After the Fall" (that's up to you), but things are not good. Buffy finds out. I would not have a problem if the other scoobies were involved. I'd love to see what Buffy would do after Angel has made such a hash of things. Rating can be whatever you feel is needed by the story.

 **A/N** : Spoilers for Buffy S9 comics through Issue 6. Canon compliant through Buffy S9 Issue 6. Some dialogue taken from AtS, S5 Ep21 (Power Play). Betaed by the delightful [](http://zombieboyband.livejournal.com/profile)[**zombieboyband**](http://zombieboyband.livejournal.com/).

 

 

 

“You okay?” His voice is low, the shadows in the half-lit room hiding his face from her tired eyes.

“Yeah,” she responds weakly. “Sorry about the bleediness. I guess I sort of…”

“Don’t worry about it.” He cuts her off, and settles in the chair next to her bed. “Not the first time I’ve had a nose full of your blood, love.”

She can remember. All of the times, good, bad, and heroic, that ended with Spike being showered in her blood. This is one of those bad times.

“Tell me a story,” she says softly. “Tell me about L.A.”

“Nothin’ to tell there,” he parries quietly. “Lifestyles of the undead and famous. I got in. I got out.”

She lets the answer lie between them for a long minute, gathering her strength. The sleepiness, an aftereffect of the sedation used at the Planned Parenthood clinic, makes her feel fuzzy and only half-present. But she’s heard bits of the Fall of L.A. and its descent into a hell dimension. She knows Spike did more than get in and get out.

“Spill,” she croaks. “Spike’s sharing story time.”

“ ‘S not a bedtime story, Buffy,” he responds softly. “More like a bloody nightmare.”

“Usually is when the world goes to hell,” she rejoins. She knows all about that and a little more besides. “Share.”

He shifts in his seat, the creak and rustle letting her know just how long and bloody this nightmare has been for him.

“Started with Angel,” he begins. He stops abruptly and she cranes her head to look at him.

“Angel?” She prompts him.

“Yeah,” he says. “No, it started with Fred. Prettiest, sweetest…she believed in me. And she died. Her whole self eaten away from the inside by an ancient demon. Illyria.”

He looks away.

“Angel said we had to fight back against the bastards who…” he stops again.

“Said it couldn’t be just another random horrible event in another random horrible world.”

Spike laughs, the sound rusty and hollow in the confines of the small room.

“What did you say?” Buffy asks, curious.

“Told him it would be like burning the house down while we’re still inside it,” he answers. “I was right. The big baddies weren’t just demons – they were old demons. Powerful. Fighting that? Like The First Evil, only with actual resources.”

“Hey!” she shoots back indignantly. “Also, OW.”

The strain of the quick movement sends jolts of pain arcing across her still tender belly. She stills, trying incredibly hard not to move even one of her incredibly battered muscles. Spike huffs, a quick snort that seems to encompass an entire paragraph of wordy disapproval, and reaches out, his strong hands holding her weight while she slumps back into a comfortable position.

“Next time,” he advises quietly, “keep your righteous indignation to yourself.”

So much for avoiding the wordy disapproval, she thinks. She also thinks this latest wordiness calls for another objection, but her abs disagree and she decides to let it pass.

“So, you burned the house down?” she prompts, unwilling to let their discussion derail into pointless banter. Nothing wrong with pointless banter, but she was very much focused on the point of this discussion.

Spike nods absently, the stark light seeping in through the blinds highlight his bleak features. “Like most of Angel’s plans, it was a carefully crafted blunder from start to finish.”

She knows. Oh, does she know. Her knowledge of Angel’s planned blunders or blundered plans is knowledgeable. If a deep understanding of Angel’s ability to completely foul an entire plan made it into a college’s curriculum, she would be incredibly close to graduation on that alone. Acathla. Twilight. And now, apparently, L.A.

“Yeah,” she said finally. “He does that sometimes. What happened after it all went to hell?”

“Literally or metaphorically?” Spike asks flatly.

“Start wherever,” she says. “I’m not going anywhere.”


End file.
